Earning Wings of a Different Nature

by Strayan Phoenix

Chapter Seven

[1736 Hours, 12th May, 2020]

“Charlie One, this is Hotel Actual, we’ve just lost contact with Papa Two, and radio isn’t responding, presumed lost. Ship is at Action Stations, and Status is Red. We repeat: Status is Red, over!”

“Hotel Actual, this is Charlie One, copy that. What is the recommended plan of action, over?”

“Charlie One, chase down that rogue FFV and shadow them. Suspect vessel has been upgraded to ‘Hostile’, but it’s recommended you don’t get too close. Fire Support is a negative; they have Papa Two and twelve other confirmed hostages. Hostiles are armed and dangerous, but exact numbers and weapon types are unknown. Boarding Teams Alpha and Bravo are preparing to intercept, and we are on course to provide close-range fire support, ETA twelve minutes, over.”

“Copy your last, Hotel Actual. We’re shadowing the hostile vessel; will update if any changes to the situation occur, over.”

“Roger that Charlie One. Hotel out.”

 
Daring Do stared down the muzzle of what at a glance looked to be a generic Colt M1911, the wielder staring at her with about as much shock and surprise as that of his hostage.

She urgently begged her body to do something in response to the situation.

Catch them off guard; crotch-shot this bastard; clock them all in rapid succession like a true ninja and beat a hasty retreat while they were all stunned; take off and simply fly away and hope for the best; anything.

Her body stubbornly defied its owner’s pleas however, simply having nothing left in the figurative tank, barely running on fumes.

Her exhaustion had caught up to her in full force, and was determined to make her suffer the consequences for her neglect, to be paid with interest, GST, and just about every other form of tax imaginable.

And so, the pirates had all the time in the world they needed to overcome their initial shock and herd their hostages out of the raft and down below deck at gunpoint.

Well, their human hostages, anyway.

The pirates gathered on the deck formed an intimidating circle around the Pegasus, chattering excitedly in their strange tongue as they forcefully removed her harness with a knife and smashed the IFF beacon with a hammer.

The pilot of the boat remained at the controls, opening up the throttle and causing the boat to surge as it accelerated to its top speed. After a few moments, Daring came to the conclusion that the engine on this thing was definitely crammed with aftermarket upgrades up the wazoo.

One of the pirates, whom Daring judged to be their leader by the way he dressed and carried himself, approached her with a rather carefree bravado. He was dressed from head to toe in rather light clothing, considering that it was pouring rain and bitterly cold, with a running theme of olive-green and blue in his mix-n-match ensemble.

She made no movement as the man simply picked up the radio from the harness and removed the headphones from the jack.

“—a Two, this is Hotel Actual! Please respond!” a voice suddenly blared, “Papa Two, are you still with us?!”

‘The Chief’, as Daring decided to nickname him in her head, had a grin from ear to ear as he shifted his posture to face the Destroyer far off in the distance and raised the radio to his mouth, speaking in a deep, guttural accent which hindered his English, “... You will listen to what I have to say, and listen close. Unless you pay up a ransom of... three billion US dollars, leave this ocean and go back to whatever shithole you came from, never to return... you will never see your little pet horse alive again. Am I clear?”

There was the sound of frantic shuffling about from the other end of the radio.

“Alright, listen here mate. This is Australian Warship Brisbane,” a new voice spoke up. Daring’s ears twitched as she identified it as XO Cruze.

“If you do not release your prisoners unharmed and surrender quietly, you will find that your day will be ruined exponentially, no questions asked. Are we clear?”

“I do not think you are in a position to be making threats, Kangaroo Jack,” Chief growled, “We are the ones with the prisoners now, not you”.

“I agree to disagree,” the XO retorted.

“If you think so,” the pirate shrugged nonchalantly, “Of course, we’d be more than happy to just give them back... no skin off our backs when we hand you their corpses!! So, we shall repeat the conditions: You pay us three billion dollars, take your NATO ships and leave this ocean, and promise to never come back, and we might consider giving back your pet horse. How does that sound, eh?”

The pirates all grinned as they waited around for Brisbane’s response.

“Have it your way. Give the Devil our regards”.

“You think you won’t take us seriously, eh?” Chief waved his hand gun around in Daring’s general direction, causing her to flinch as he spoke wildly into the radio, “I hope that million-dollar tin-can of yours has some binoculars on it, ‘cause you most likely ain’t never gonna get a chance to see your pet again!”

The unmistakable sound of the rapid-fire thwok-thwok alerted everyone to the presence of the Seahawk, lingering some distance away at medium-to-low altitude. The right-side sliding door was open, and an airman was standing in the doorway, watching them closely.

“And another thing,” the Chief added, “You tell your helicopter to piss off, or else we’ll start killing hostages, starting with the multicoloured horse!”

For several moments, there was no response, until the Seahawk hesitantly started drifting away to a higher altitude, still watching them.

“As in, I want that thing gone completely!” the Chief growled.

The Seahawk disappeared amongst the clouds.

With a satisfied grin, the Chief dropped the radio to the deck and crushed it under his boot.

“Now,” He turned his attention to the Pegasus, “What have we got here?”

Daring swallowed audibly as she glanced from pirate to pirate in silence, visibly shivering as she took deep, heavy breaths. Each and every exhale resulted in a fine spray of condensation as her warm breath conflicted with the cold air, and her mane seemed to gleam with the copious amounts of light-reflective rain water drenching her scalp.

“A magical flying horse! That’s just what we needed to brighten up our day,” the Chief glanced incredulously across her features, mesmerized by her brilliantly vivid magenta eyes in particular.

“You obviously understand English, yes?” He gestured, “Why else would you have a radio in your ears, connected directly to a NATO warship? So come on, tell us a bit about yourself, why don’t you?”

Daring remained silent, her eyes transfixed on the gun in the his hand.

“... Hellooooo?” He waved his hand in front of her face, “Anyone home in there?”

Her pupils followed his hand about, but the veil of silence was still maintained.

“Maybe your ability to talk is conditional then?” the Chief shrugged, “Alright. I can work around that”.

He levelled the gun at her face, clicking the safety to ‘Off’, “Talk, you fucking nag!”

Her pupils dilated as she backed away slightly, but still no verbal response was offered.

*Crack!*

“I said speak! Say something! Anything!” the Chief was now becoming frustrated as he pistol-whipped her across the face, eliciting little more than a soft grunt. After a few seconds, the left side of her muzzle visibly turned a light shade of red.

“...”

“Fine. Be that way. Maybe you’ll be feeling more talkative later,” the Chief scowled and turned to his crewmembers, speaking in a language Daring couldn’t identify.

A heavy blunt force suddenly rammed into the back of her head, and everything went black.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

“...Urgh...” Daring’s eyelids fluttered.

For a few moments, her world was entirely blurry and numb. Her limbs were stiff and unresponsive, and the only audible sound was that of her own heartbeat thumping in her chest.

And then all at once, all of her senses decided to wake up within the same instant.

“Hrrnnng!” she clenched her teeth as a wave of agony erupted from the back of her head and resonated several times throughout her body like a pinball, setting off hot-spots of pain wherever it went. The left side of her face still stung from where the Chief had struck her, and she had a feeling that she hadn’t been out cold for long.

The second thing she became aware of was that there was a coarse rope tied up so excruciatingly tight around her midsection that it was digging into her flesh, pinning her wings in place by her sides. The pirates were obviously smart enough to realise that she could potentially just fly off if allowed the opportunity, and had taken a precaution to prevent that.

What they didn’t realise was that a Pegasus’ wings were probably the most sensitive spots on their whole body, and Daring did little to suppress her facial expression from distorting into an agitated grimace of discomfort.

The third thing she noticed was that the boat’s owner obviously never bothered to put a proper muffling system on his motor, despite all the other tid-bits and modifications, and her ears flattened from the blaring whine blasting from the other side of the room.

Her heart rate rapidly increased to cope with her body’s surging demand for energy, but with so little left to give, lying there helplessly like a wheezing animal was about the only thing she could do.

A jolt up her spine triggered her back to spasm uncontrollably for a brief moment. Her left wing, which was lying in an uncomfortable position trapped between her and the rope, was angrily reminding her of its existence with every passing moment, a painful thorn in her side.

Every wave the vessel encountered caused it to jump slightly, and she found that the constant movement was doing nothing to help her sore limbs in any way as the wooden deck violently jerked about beneath her.

She had a feeling that by the end of it all, she would have several painful splinters lodged in her skin.

Experiencing pain in a dream just wasn’t the same as the real thing. In the real world, there was no Princess Luna to come bursting in to give her a get-better hug and say that it’s all in her head.

Instead, there were around a dozen Arabs and a handful of armed pirates who probably didn’t speak a sliver of English between them, all staring awkwardly at her as she lay limply on the hardwood deck, sluggishly twitching and moaning in agony.

As Daring’s vision gradually cleared, directly in her line of sight was a pirate, dressed with yellow and blue as the theme for his clothing. His expression was blank and unreadable as he sat on top of a long, rectangular wooden crate, cradling an old AK-47 assault rifle in his arms like a small child. She instantly labelled him with the nickname ‘Chuckles’, in irony and spite of his stern, no-nonsense demeanour.

She frowned slightly. Why couldn’t these guys come up with something original to arm themselves with? AK-47s were classics, sure, but surely there were much better weapons out there on the black market available for purchase than them.

For around thirty seconds, the pirate and the Pegasus had a stare-off, with the latter giving the former the most pitiful and emotion-stirring expression she could, with no visible response.

She was adamant that any normal person in their right minds would get up and at least offer her something comfortable to lean on.

She broke the stare and gingerly moved her head about to observe her surroundings, desperately trying to ignore the torrent of negative backlash from her neck.

She was obviously in some sort of cargo hold, what with all the miscellaneous crates lying around. A ladder which led up to a hatch to the top deck stood in the middle of the hold, and all of the other hostages were clustered around the edges of the room, huddling together in an effort to fight the cold.

For a moment, she was puzzled as to how the pirates were keeping themselves warm, when she noticed that they were all standing around the boat’s engine, which was probably the warmest spot on this crate.

Turning her head the other way brought her face to face with a wooden wall, presumably dividing the lower deck into two separate halves.

Reaching up to rub the back of her head with her hoof revealed the presence of dry crusted blood; the sign of a cut which was finally scabbing over.

A secondary glance across the room revealed a head-count of just five guards, although all of them were armed with guns.

'There must be a way to get us out of here,' She thought, 'To do that, we need to take out those guards... but how?'

Between her and twelve miserable Arabs, an idea started taking shape in her mind.

'Alright... we have the numbers, but with those guns... we'll need to catch them off-guard somehow... we need a suitable distraction...'

Another glimpse around the hold didn't really give her much hope.

'The crates probably could be used to hide a sneak attack, but it'd take too long... We'd need to take them all out at once.'

'Maybe if I can get these Arabs to co-operate, we'd be able to pull it off, but with my current condition, I suppose that means I have to be the bait.'

‘Let's see... In order to draw their attention entirely to me, I need to make them angry enough that they’ll only be concentrating on me, and I can only think of one sure-fire way to do that off the top of my head.’

'I'm going to have to do something religiously offensive, I think. That seems to get people fired up very quickly.'

Chuckles blinked and watched with curiosity as the Pegasus slowly rose to her hooves, a little wobbly at first, before eventually finding her balance. She seemed to have a slight limp on her left shoulder as she gingerly approached the crowd of Arabs on the starboard side of the skiff.

“Hey,” she whispered, attracting their attention, “Does anyone here speak English?”

An older man, possibly one of the ones she rescued personally, raised his hand slightly.

“Alright,” she whispered in a barely audible voice, sitting down on her haunches with her back to the pirates to avoid any potential lip-readers, “I have an idea to get us all out of here, but I need the help of you and your friends to pull it off. It’s going to take some courage on your part, but I promise that you’ll have the easy bit. Are you with me?”

The man cringed hesitantly.

“You’ll get an opportunity to bash these pricks,” she gestured slightly in the direction of Chuckles, “The plan is really simple. I’ll create a distraction, and you and your friends all mob them from behind, alright?”

“But... they have guns... what do we do about them?” the man asked.

“They'll be distracted by me, and you'll be able to sneak up on them,” Daring answered, “If you catch them by surprise, the guns won’t mean jack-shit.”

“Alright, what about others up top?” the man asked.

“Simple, we’ll take the guns off these wankers and turn them against the others,” Daring explained, “We’ll have the element of surprise and shock value.”

The man looked unconvinced, but otherwise nodded.

“Please don’t let me down. I’m about to do something I’m probably going to regret later, and I don’t want to look like an idiot because no-one else participated,” Daring shot them all a pleading look, “Alright?”

“You saved our lives,” the man shrugged, “I think we can return favour.”

“That’s the spirit!” Daring grinned, straightening up, “Now, pass the word around. The signal will be rather obvious when it happens. You understand?”

The man nodded and quickly started explaining the plan in a hushed voice to his friends. Several of them started grinning broadly.

"And one more thing," she added.

"Yes?" He smiled widely.

"If you find what I'm about to do offensive or confronting, please block your ears".

"Why?"

"The best distraction is to make people flustered and angry, so to do that, I'm going to get a bit religious in here, and if you get offended by that, please just ignore me".

The man's smile distorted into a frown, but he otherwise slowly nodded, "I understand".

He turned to the men close to him, translating the plan into their own language. After several minutes of hushed Arabic whispering, they gave Daring a curt nod, and she drew a deep breath, stood up and stepped forward, standing ramrod straight in the middle of the room.

‘Here goes nothing.’

In a clear, surprisingly harmonious voice, Daring Do, the Navy Pilot-turned-Pegasus, began to sing.

“The Splendor of the King,
Clothed in Majesty,
Let all the Earth Rejoice,
Let all the Earth Rejoice”.

The pirates, as well as several of the Arabs, all frowned in annoyance upon recognition of the lyrics.

“He wraps Himself in Light,
and Darkness tries to Hide.
It trembles at His Voice,
Trembles at His Voice”.

“Hey! Cut that out!” a pirate yelled angrily. Several other voices murmured their agreement.

Daring ignored them, concentrating on her performance.

“How Great is our God!
Sing with me,
How Great is our God!
And all will see how great,
How Great is our God!”

“Hey!” Chuckles stood up, “I said cut that out!”

“From age to age, He stands,
and Time is in His hands.
Beginning and the End,
Beginning and the End.

The pirates all stood up and formed a rough circle around her.

'That's right... come just a little bit closer...' she mentally grinned.

“The God-Head, Three in One,
Father, Spirit, Son,
The Lion and the Lamb,
the Lion and the Lamb!”

“I swear, if you don’t stop that right now, you’ll find yourself in a whole other world of hurt!” Chuckles raised his assault rifle at the Pegasus.

Daring kept a close eye on the pirate as she blatantly ignored his verbal threats,

“How Great is our God!
Sing with me,
How Great is our God!
And all will see how great,
How Great is our God!”

“I warned you!” Chuckles stepped forward, flipping the gun about to hold it by the barrel like a club, aiming to hit her across the head with it.

“And in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” Daring suddenly cut her performance short as the makeshift club swung in her direction. She instinctively dropped under the swing and twisted her body about on a dime, “REPENT, MOTHERFUCKER!”

Chuckles never knew what hit him as a well-aimed buck landed right between his legs, causing the man to suddenly howl in pain and drop to his knees in agony.

All at once, everyone sprang into action.

Daring twisted back around and chopped upwards at the man’s wrist with her right hoof, knocking his weapon from his grip. From there, she snapped her arm across in a sweeping back-hoof, whacking the pirate across the face to stun him, before gripping his head in her hooves and slamming it down into the deck several times in rapid succession, shattering his nose and knocking him out.

A vicious kick to her left side knocked her to the deck, causing a fierce pain to swell up across her sensitive wing and eliciting a high-pitched yelp.

As the remaining four pirates all raised their guns towards the Pegasus, they all suddenly found themselves overwhelmed as the Arabs stood up and jumped to her rescue, with several men at once grappling against each of the pirates for control of the weapons.

With three-to-one odds in close quarters, the odds were set in stone from the outset.

Daring grimaced as she clutched at her damaged wing, her chest heaving in and out with heavy breaths, “Damn... talk about taking one... for the team!"

She glanced from the pirates to the Arabs, five of their number now wielding an assault rifle in their hands, and five unconscious pirates spread across the deck where they fell.

She hurriedly gestured an Arab across, pointing at the rope around her midsection, who nodded and picked up a sharp knife from a pirate’s limp body, before slicing at the ropes holding the Pegasus’ wings in place.

The ropes fell to the floor with a thud as Daring stretched her wings out, which eagerly accepted their newly-restored freedom with glee. They were still stiff and sore, particularly on her left side, but the sudden lack of pressure made it a bit more bearable.

The pitter-patter of the rain was joined by the sound of heavy footsteps on the deck above, reminding them of the presence of the other pirates.

She hurriedly directed the Arabs with guns to stand at the foot of the ladder using physical gestures, with the guns pointed up at the hatch.

“If that hatch opens, you blast them to Hell,” she instructed.

The Arabs without guns eagerly began opening up the crates, eager to check the contents inside.

It seemed Lady Luck was shining bright on them this evening for once, as the long rectangular crate Chuckles was sitting on was opened up to reveal a very distinct, tube-shaped weapon inside. Daring’s eyes glistened brightly in the low-light conditions.

“Alright fellers,” she gripped the RPG awkwardly in her forelegs and stood on her hind legs, flapping her wings sporadically for balance, “Let’s rearrange some architecture.”

The Chief and several of his crewmembers stood around the hatch to the cargo hold, beckoning one of them to open it up.

“The fuck is going on down there--”

A resounding explosion from within the skiff suddenly blasted through the hatch, throwing a shower of wood, splinters and flames in every direction.

The pirates were roughly thrown backwards by the force of the explosion, all of them now sporting multiple lacerations across their bodies.

The Chief blinked, his vision blurry and his ears ringing as he stumbled about disorientedly. Daring Do lept out of the gaping hole in the deck, holding the projectile-less RPG awkwardly in her fingerless grip.

"*Ppppbt!*” She tauntingly pulled a face and blew them a raspberry.

“Blast that bitch!” the Chief shakily stood up and awkwardly raised his handgun towards her, firing off several rounds in succession. His sense of co-ordination was less than impressive, however.

“Mate, you’d miss the water if you jumped off this crate!” Daring breathed flippantly, twisting and jumping about erratically to avoid the wide spray of bullets.

A sudden white-hot sensation blazing across her left thigh quickly indicated otherwise, however.

“Argh, crap!” she glanced down to see that a glancing hit had ripped a gash across her leg, stretching from just above of the northwest pointer of her Cutie Mark to barely a milimetre beneath the tip of the east pointer. The injury was bleeding profusely within seconds, forcing her down as she dropped the RPG and clutched her thigh in excruciating pain.

The pirates all unsteadily aimed their weapons towards the injured Pegasus, certain that a hailstorm of lead would overcome any accuracy impediments.

She audibly swallowed, and forced her expression into a defiant glare.

“You’re turning out to be more trouble than you’re worth,” the Chief muttered coldly, “NATO can keep their fucking money. Good night.”

Daring visibly flinched as the gun clicked loudly, indicating it was empty.

“Ergh, hang on a second,” Chief angrily dumped the magazine and inserted a fresh one from his pocket, cocking the slider back to arm it. “Now, this time for sure.”

A loud yell drew the pirates’ attention as the Arabs began surging up the ladder, pointing their assault rifles wildly about, prompting a tense stand-off between them and the pirates. No-one dared make a move, unsure of where to proceed from here.

The Arabs were quickly becoming nervous, because Daring's plan wasn't particularly explained beyond this point, while the pirates were starting to panic, as their 'hostages' were very quickly turning the tables against their favour.

With the pirates distracted, Daring quickly scrambled across to the port side of the deck, out of the way of potential friendly fire, and leaving a slick trail of blood behind her. The torrential rain helped to keep the injury clean, but it made a mess of her leg as precious, life-giving liquids freely flowed down onto the deck.

“Please don’t tell me that fucker clipped an artery!” She pleaded aloud to no-one in particular.

A loud buzzing sound from nearby caught Daring’s attention, and her injury was temporarily forgotten upon the sight of the two Rigid Inflatable Motor Boats (RIMB) of the Clearance Divers pulling up alongside the skiff.

The Chief scowled angrily, “Oh, come on!”

“Drop the weapons and get down on the deck, now!” Lieutenant Chappell screamed as he jumped aboard, wielding a Remington 870 shotgun in his hands, “Move it! Alpha Team, sort the pirates from the hostages! Bravo Team, see to it that no-one tries anything funny!”

Arabs and pirates alike quickly dropped their guns to the deck and raised their hands to the air without hesitation as the Australian Special Forces swarmed onto the skiff, the pirates wisely deciding that their cause was now lost.

The Chief however raised his pistol once more towards Daring, determined to kill her if it was the last thing he did.

“Shef, look out!!” a Diver exclaimed.

Daring's mind was working faster than her body, it seemed. She could see the gun levelling towards her, and didn't need another milisecond to realise where that bullet was going, however her body, battered and exhausted, was sluggish to respond to its owner's demands.

By the time she had started to duck to the side, it was just that little bit too slow, right as the gun went off. An audible thup was heard instantly, followed by a loud, piercing scream.

The Chief grinned widely, and remained smiling even as around a dozen assault rifle rounds and a shotgun blast reduced his chest cavity to Swiss cheese, and he was dead before he even hit the deck.

“Shef!” Chappell rushed across the deck as the Pegasus slumped limply to her side, with her shoulder supporting the bulk of her weight against the deck. Her left hoof was clamped over her right shoulder, which was quickly becoming smeared with red. Her right arm remained limp and motionless against her side as she whimpered in agony.

“Here,” He placed his shotgun on the deck and opened up a pouch on his utility harness with his left hand, producing a large white piece of cotton, a small bottle of antiseptic, and a twisted-up length of thick rubber band.

In a flash, he soaked the cotton bud with the antiseptic and offered the rubber band to Daring. “Bite on this”.

With uncertainty, she complied and grimaced.

The fiery stinging sensation in her shoulder intensified considerably as Chappell held the cotton bud against the bullet wound, eliciting a garbled scream from the Pegasus, muffled by the rubber band in her mouth.

“Oi Snapper, get over here!” Chappell barked at a nearby Diver, “I need some tape to hold this cotton bud in place.”

The Diver whipped a roll of tape from a pocket on his vest and slung his weapon across his back, ripping two short lengths and carefully placing them in an X-pattern across the bud, taping it to Daring’s coat.

“Hnnng!” she clenched her eyes shut, unable to prevent several teardrops from escaping and dripping down her face, although it was rather hard to tell from a glance as they mixed amongst the rainwater.

The blood slowly creeping across the deck caught Chappell's attention. With a frown, he rolled her over onto her right side, locating the offending gash on Daring’s thigh, “Oh shit. Snapper, come ‘round here and give me a hand with this.”

Daring audibly sobbed, causing her to shudder.

“Yeah, I know it stings,” Chappell murmured off-handedly as he dowsed another cotton bud, “But this’ll prevent the injury from becoming infected.”

        “Mmmmgh!” another muffled scream emerged from the Pegasus, as the Diver dabbed the cotton bud across the gash, driving it deep into the wound several times. She struggled to restrain herself from accidentally kicking Chappell in the face as she twitched about in discomfort.

"She's going to need medical attention," He muttered, "This is going to get fubar real quick if we don't hurry."

He turned about to the other Divers, "Snapper, you grab her by the legs. Spazmo, get over here and put some pressure on this injury! We're taking the pegasus back to Brisbane. Dingo, you're driving! Everyone else, sit tight until we get back!"

He slung the shotgun over his shoulder and moved about to wrap his arms under Daring's shoulders, while Snapper picked her up by the legs, and Spazmo held a fresh handcloth to her thigh. With a heave, they hauled the wailing Pegasus off the deck.

One by one, they gingerly stepped over the rail into the waiting RIMB, as Dingo commandeered the controls and slammed the throttle forward. The engine kicked up into a loud whine, and boat jerked forward with rapid acceleration, twisting about at the Diver's behest towards Brisbane.

"Clear the Med Bay! We've got a casualty inbound!" Rogers barked, prompting the sailors around him to kick into gear. Within moments, everyone was at the ready in their assigned positions, prepared to deal with whatever case fate would throw at them.

From outside the Med Bay, they heard a gruff voice exclaiming for people to get out of the way. The medical team blinked in surprise as Chappell and his team trudged into the room with the sobbing Pegasus firmly in their grip.

"Place her down on the operating table and we'll take it from here," Rogers beckoned urgently.

As the Divers took a step back, the medical team stepped in, quickly analysing the task before them.

"Good God, what have they done to you?" Rogers frowned, glancing across Daring's shuddering form. "Harris! Anesthetic, now!"

In a flash, Nurse Harris placed a breathing mask over Daring's muzzle, and within seconds, the whimpering Pegasus quietened down, out like a light.

"Check for an exit wound."

"Negative on an exit wound sir."

"That means the bullet must be lodged in her shoulder blade," He mused, "Which in turn means we're going to have to go digging."

He turned about to his team, "Harris, you start patching up that thigh injury. It looks like it was only a glancing shot, so it should be the easier of the two majory injuries to deal with. Blitzer, start running those scanners; we're in for a crash course in Pegasus biology."

He turned about to those on his other side, "Jesse, pass me those foreceps; Tess and Flick, be ready with those stitches."

With a crack of his knuckles, he stepped up towards Daring's shoulder injury, "Let's get to work people!"

        Beep. 

        Beep.

        Beep.

“... She’s coming around.”

        “Oi, step back and give her some space.”
        
        Daring cringed as a bright light pierced her eyes. After a few moments however, the light was turned off.
        
        “Yo Sheffield...” a voice asked, “You alright?”
        
        She could hear the heartbeat monitor pick up in pace as she slowly stirred back into the realm of the conscious.

        Without even looking around, she could tell that she was lying on her back, wrapped up in some kind of hospital bed. The low rumbling sound in the background indicated that she was in Brisbane’s Medical Bay.
        
        The beeping of the heartbeat monitor beside her picked up in pace as her breathing slowly picked up to a more normalised, relaxed state.

        She gingerly opened her eyes and scanned about the room. Standing within the immediate vicinity were the forms of Medic Rogers, Nurse Harris, XO Cruze, and CO Stevenson, identified in that order.

        A clock up on the wall read 12:53 AM.

Several places across her body sparked with discomfort, particularly her shoulder, thigh, and wings. A glimpse of white out of the corner of her eye drew her attention to her right shoulder. Her entire arm was wrapped up in a sling, and her shoulder itself was obscured underneath a network of bandages and beige sports tape.

“How are you feeling, Shef?” Rogers asked softly.

        “Like a bloody train-wreck,” Daring visibly grimaced. Her voice was a croaky murmur, laced with exhaustion.

        “You’re a lucky pegasus, my feathered friend,” The Medic glanced at the clipboard in his hand and placed it in her lap for her to read, “Just get a look at that!”

Patient: Do, Daring
ID No.: XXXX-XXXX-XXXX
Species: Pegasus
D.O.B: 08/05/95
Gender: ♀
Blood Type: O+

Major Injuries:
-A gunshot wound to the right shoulder; resulting in a torn deltoid muscle and a distorted shoulder blade
-A significant gash across the left thigh; caused by a glancing bullet; resulting in two torn quadricep muscles and a damaged hamstring
-Evidence of blunt force trauma to the back of the head
-Light to Moderate amounts of Blood Loss

Minor Injuries: 
-A small cut across the left cheekbone
-Moderate bruising across both wings
-Moderate Damage to several Primary Feathers
-Moderate muscle strain and fatigue

Medic’s Notes:
Scans revealed invaluable amounts of information about the Subject's biological structure, and about Pegasus biology in general.

The Subject's entire skeletal structure appears to be made of some kind of cartilage; light enough to allow flight; tough enough to support her frame under normal gravity, and highly flexible to allow for a wide range of movement. The light weight and flexibility however, does not necessarily mean fragility, as the shoulder blade alone was strong enough to stop a direct hit from a low-powered bullet in its tracks, albeit at the cost of severe disfigurement. It is also theorised that the lower jaw bone can be unhinged to allow for an abnormal range of movement, although this has yet to be tested.

The legs are slightly thicker and much more flexible than a normal pony's, much more spring-like and durable to take the stress of hard landings.

The Subject's skull is almost nothing like a normal equine's, being more spherical and humanistic in shape. The eye sockets are enormous, taking up as much as one fifth of the face each, giving the Subject a slightly cartoonish appearance, and we suspect that the Subject has superior eyesight to a human; maybe even on par with a raptor in terms of quality and sharpness. The brain cavity is also quite large and spacious, suggesting a highly complex nervous system and a high level of Intelligence. No official tests have been performed to measure this, but it is most likely that it is at least on par with that of a Human.

The Subject has a highly complex muscular structure, even for an equine, due to the addition of a third pair of limbs. The Patient is slightly bulkier around the abdomen when compared to a normal pony, due to the presence of dense, well-developed flight muscles. It appears these muscles are connected to a second pair of 'shoulders', for a lack of a better term, although these in turn are heavily supported by the subject's spine and sternum, which appear to be much more dense than on a normal equine. The theory behind this is that the spine is what has to support the Patient's entire weight during flight (particularly whilst hovering), and is necessary in order for the Subject to be able to remain airborne for a prolonged period of time.

The Subject has almost a thirty percent larger lung capacity than a normal equine, as well as a heart that is twenty percent larger, suggesting superior stamina to a normal pony. It's theorised that this is partly due to the Subject's semi-avian nature, where larger lungs can provide for the larger oxygen supply necessary for sustained flight.

The Subject's digestive tract is almost identical to that of a normal pony's, however it is suspected that the Subject's dietary tolerances are much higher, capable of consumption of nearly any human food that isn't meat.

Based on prior information from the Internet about these 'My Little Ponies', they can come in pretty much any conceiveable colour configuration. We don't know why this is the case, besides the fact that it is a cartoon, but it's most likely that the coat and mane colours at birth are dictated by the genetics of the parents.

This is all that we have so far. Will update as more information is uncovered.

Final Verdict:
-Gunshot wounds required stitches; Wings have been cleaned and preened; Minor Grazes have been taken care of.  

Recommended Four Weeks of R&R, to allow the damaged muscles time to recover; Projected Three-to-Four Months before Complete Recovery. Shoulder Blade suspected to be permanently disfigured. It shouldn't hinder recovery of movement, but if problems persist, Surgical Reconstruction will be highly recommended.

During this time, the Patient cannot be allowed to perform heavy lifting under any circumstances. Use of Wings is allowed, but ONLY for self-locomotion in lieu of injured legs, and nothing else.

Daring blinked incredulously, “You actually listed my name as ‘Daring Do’?”

“Well, ‘Mark Sheffield’ just looked weird when coupled with the rest of the details, you see,” Rogers shrugged. He reached across and pulled a small plastic bag off the nearby bench, throwing it into Daring’s lap, “Here, have a look at this little sucker.”

She held the bag up for a closer look, confused by the small, bloodied lump of metal inside. “Is that...?”

“That’s what I pulled from your shoulder, yes,” Rogers smirked, “It’s yours to keep, if you want it. A nice little souvenir for keepsakes.”

Daring grinned in amusement and placed the bag aside.

Rogers gestured to the other people assembled in the room, “Now that that’s sorted, I believe these gents wanted to have a few words with you...”

The Skipper nodded and took a deep breath as Rogers stepped aside, “Leftenant... Daring Do...”

Daring glanced between the CO and the XO uncertainly.

“The Pegasus with a strange name and an even stranger appearance,” the Skipper failed to suppress an amused smirk, “They’re all talking about you you know, in the hangar.”

“Who?” Daring’s ears flattened nervously.

“Those Arabs you rescued,” the Skipper answered, “They say that they all owe you their lives. Your actions in a hostile and stressful environment are commendable, and you managed to overcome a serious blunder from the higher-ups.”

He raised an eyebrow in the direction of XO Cruze, who purposefully turned away sheepishly.

“I don’t get it,” Daring frowned, “What did he do?”

“Shef, as the Officer on Watch at the time of your capture, I am the one who has to take responsibility for putting you in danger like that, without any sort of back-up to support you, resulting in your present injuries and condition,” Cruze murmured, “And for that, I sincerely apologise.”

“Nah, you’re ‘right,” Daring lazily shook her head, “No-one knew that the unknown boat was hostile. Besides, we’re all still alive, aren’t we?”

“You know very well that that could’ve changed in an instant at any moment, so don’t give me that,” Cruze snapped, “The fact that the only death was the pirate captain is a miracle in its own right. Had that bullet in your shoulder struck any further to the left, and it would’ve punched through a major artery, and you’d be bleeding to death by now simply because no-one knows how to operate on such an injury on an equine without potentially fucking it up in the process.
“Had that gash on your leg been any deeper, it too would’ve hit an artery, and you’d have bled to death. The fact that you’re sitting here is a blessing from above in itself! Everyone is just thanking their lucky stars that your capture was the only stroke of bad luck throughout this entire operation.”

Daring stared wide-eyed in shocked silence.

"Well..." she attempted speech, "They seemed to remove the bullet from my shoulder without any problems..."

"Lieutenant, removing a bullet and fixing up a major artery are two different ball-games," Cruze said flatly.

“What interests me though, is what the other hostages had to say about you,” the Skipper interjected, “From the sounds of things, they all had nothing but praise for your inspirational courage and quick-thinking. Distracting the guards by singing a Christian song to a group of Muslims? That takes guts in its own right. With your leadership, the hostages were pretty much able to free themselves. I’d say that kind of performance would warrant a medal, and you can be sure that you’ll be mentioned in the Dispatches.”

Her heart pounded inside her chest as her expression brightened considerably.

“Rest up easy, mate,” the Skipper turned for the door, “Hope you’re feeling better tomorrow.”

“‘Night Shef,” the XO nodded and exited the Med Bay behind him.

“We’re going to have you spend the night in here,” Harris said calmly, “And you’ll be released tomorrow morning once your condition has improved. Be very careful, as you don’t want to aggravate the stitches too much.”

“How long will they be in?” Daring murmured.

“Perhaps a week or two,” Harris shrugged, “Maybe a bit more for your thigh injury. To be honest, we don't know how long it'll take for you to heal."

She waited until Rogers had left the room before flicking off the lights, “Good night, Miss Sheffield.”

The lights shut off with a loud click, blanketing the room in darkness.